Playing
House:
LOST;
PG. Post-series AU. In which Richard and Miles spend a thrilling
afternoon together paying bills. Prompt used: "have a character
pay bills".
>>>
When
it came to paying the bills in what was now known colloquially as
Casa Desde Desmond, since the Los Angeles home had once been a
property of Hume's bitter father-in-law,
Charles Widmore, the duty fell upon the shoulders of Miles and
Richard. They were expected to sort everything out.
It
made sense. Between Alpert's off-shore bank accounts and stock
portfolio that he’d
maintained for his Jacob-related
activities,
and the profit Miles made off of the diamonds he took with him from
the island, it was their money that would keep the house lights on
for the next fifty years.
The
problem was, every time Miles and Richard got together to sort out
the house bills, there was always some expense that just didn't make
sense. Or, as was their luck this month, most of them.
"I'm
confused." Miles squinted at a sheath of paper underneath the
kitchen lights. "How did our electricity bill jump up two
hundred dollars this month?"
Richard
peered over his reading glasses. His eyes were beginning to age,
along with the rest of his body, and he needed them to overcome his
newfound sight issues, much to the amusement of his housemates.
"Between you, me, Frank, Sawyer, and Kate, we've been using a
lot lately. And then there's the new computer room upstairs, and the
guest rooms we keep open for Claire and the others."
"And
that stupid pinball machine Lapidus brought in last week."
"Aaron
likes it."
"Aaron
is, like, five years old? They all like loud, shiny stuff at that
age." Miles huffed. "Okay, so that's almost four hundred
dollars down for electricity. Do you want me to deal with the water
bill?"
Richard
reached forward and took the blue notice sitting on top of Miles'
stack of papers. "My supposed sea-related traumas do not extend
to public utilities. Especially ones that run through toilets."
Miles
shuffled through the stack, trying to make sense of the numbers. "The
Internet bill—I
can't even look at it. Can't we just buy out Google Fiber and run it
through the house?"
"Only
if you want to live on instant noodles and crackers for the next five
years."
"Oh
boy," Miles said sarcastically. "Sounds like college all
over again."
"And
right now, it's our only way to contact the Dharma Initiative
computers still on the island, so we can't just not pay."
"And
here's Kate's court fees... and Sawyer's court fees... and Frank's
court fees —are
we paying these too?"
"Yes."
"But
Sawyer never pays us back for anything!"
"Don't
worry about Sawyer," Richard said in a tone he usually reserved
for Benjamin Linus when the other man got out of hand. "He'll
pay soon enough."
Miles
gulped. "Hey, man, I know you used to work for Jacob,
and you did some weird stuff with the others—but
don't off Sawyer and drop him into the harbor, okay?"
"Of
course not." Richard blinked over his glasses. "I meant I
was keeping a running tally of his dues and will be presenting him
with his full bill before too long. Did you think I was an immortal
island gangster for Jacob?"
"Would
it be bad if I said yes?"
"Depends
on if you want to be fitted for cement shoes."
"Damn,
Alpert, I can't tell if you're joking or if you're already planning
to throw me into the water."
Richard
grinned. "Don't worry, I'm too old to be tossing people
anywhere. Your feet are safe."
"I
still can't get over the fact that you're older than Frank. Speaking
of which, I believe this is yours." Miles handed over an
envelope with the AARP logo in glaring red.
"Oh,
joy. And now I'll be able to pass as fifty plus." He referred to
the strokes of gray which were slowly growing into his dark hair.
The
last time he spoke to Hurley, over the computer's video camera, the
other man had said Alpert would soon be looking like a certain Marvel
magician with the same hairstyle. Richard was sure that in a month or
so, young Reyes would be referring to him as Doctor Strange on a
regular basis —and
so would Sawyer, if he ever caught on.
And
that is when, as if on perfect cue, Sawyer's voice drifted down into
the kitchen. "Hey, has anyone seen my car keys? Did someone
swipe 'em?"
Frank's
voice immediately shot back from the den. "Yeah, I drove your
truck into a pit last night."
"Shut
up, pilot!" Heavy footsteps announced Sawyer's arrival
downstairs, framed in the doorway of the kitchen as though he was
posing for a photo shoot. "Hello, kids. Having fun playing
house?"
Miles
waved one of Sawyer's traffic tickets at him. "You could help,
you know."
"What,
and break up this adorable tea party?" Sawyer smirked. "Nope.
I've got a hot date with a certain little lady and I can't be late."
Richard
sighed. "If I lend you the keys to my Corvette, will you promise
not to get into any trouble with it?"
"Of
course!" Sawyer looked half-offended
at the suggestion.
"And
please, if Clementine makes a mess on my seats, clean it up?"
"Sure
thing, Hoss." Sawyer quickly caught the keys that Richard tossed
his way and beat a hasty retreat out of the kitchen.
Miles
stared at Richard. Richard stared back.
"You're
never going to make Sawyer pay back all that money, are you?"
Richard
smiled and went back to his papers, as usual answering nothing and
everything at the same time. In that moment, life was good and
expensive and still worth living.
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